


Captive Audience

by useyourlove



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: bsg_kink, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourlove/pseuds/useyourlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leoben wakes up one morning on New Caprica to find himself in a less-than-ideal situation.</p><p>Written for the Shutterbug prompt: "Leoben in a chair, ballgagged, hands tied and tethered above his head. A trail of blood trickles from a gash along his brow. He does not look afraid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captive Audience

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on LJ at [wartytoads](http://wartytoads.livejournal.com/6126.html). Originally posted at [bsg_kink](http://bsg-kink.livejournal.com/296662.html?thread=5088726#t5088726).
> 
> A/N: This one is pretty dark and full of violence and kinky aggressive sexual acts. Where else can a Kara/Leoben fic _go_ , I ask you? So, I'm warning you now: if you don't like blood, violence, hatred, torture, and powerplay in your sex then go away.

He'd woken up like this—tied up and hanging from the ceiling like a side of curing meat. The ball gag prevented him from speaking but at least she'd left his eyes free. Free to drink it all in.

"You like this, don't you?" A chuckle bubbled up out of her throat. "Sick frak."

She raised the camera to her eye once more and snapped another picture. The device spit out a sheet of gray film as if rudely sticking out its tongue to mock him. She grabbed it by the end and started shaking it through the air. Leoben closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes again they remained serene. Kara's face set hard.

She kicked the chair from under him, leaving him hanging there by his wrists. He didn't even make a sound. She grabbed his chin in her hand, leaning in and inspecting him from centimeters—millimeters away. Then her hot tongue touched his cheek and she licked his face clean of the trickle of blood that she had spent the past half hour watching trail down his skin. He moaned, eyes drifting shut before she slapped his attention back to her with a hard open palm.

She was smirking. She thought she had him. She tossed the photograph to the floor, set the camera down on a chair, and trailed her finger from his chin to the still weeping cut on his brow. Her finger stung in the open wound and she pressed until he squealed. Satisfied, she trailed the finger across her own lips, down her neck and throat until she cupped a breast and gave it a lascivious squeeze.

She made sure he had to watch.

Moaning, she knelt before him, pressing her body against his, teasing his hardness with the heat of her thighs. She slung her weight across him, pressing her breasts to his chest and throwing her arms around his neck, wrapping a leg around his waist and grinding with all her might until he cried out from pain and pleasure. The rope was cutting into his wrists and he had lost all feeling in his fingers. No matter. If this was what she _needed_ so be it.

She would come to understand.

He let her ride him through their clothing, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck and smelling that sweetness unique to only her. She would understand. The soft fall of her hair against his cheek combined with her movements undid him and he cried out around the gag.

Her bucking grew erratic as she grated against him until she too finally came. She hung there against him for a minute, her body limp and liquid. He reveled in the moment. She was so close and yet so far.

He always knew when these moments were over. The change was always so abrupt, her demeanor so sharp. Her body stiffened against him and she pulled back to catch his gaze. Her eyes were full of enough hatred to match the love reflected in his. She wrenched herself from his body, her breathing furious, before she launched forward, kicking him hard in the stomach once, twice, three times. She unhooked him from the ceiling and let him curl in on himself, crumpled in a pile and coughing blood.

She didn't say anything. She simply turned from the room and bolted the door behind her, leaving him there to suffer until he could manage to die and start the whole process over again. His eyes caught on the picture lying beside his head. Tied up and gagged, bloody. He smiled. She possessed him. He didn't mind.


End file.
